Hobbit, Lord of the Rings 1. The Ceremony

**Title**: Wedding Disaster

**Rating**: T/PG-13

**Pairing**/**s**: Gimli/Legolas, Thorin/Bilbo, Frodo/Aragorn, possible Kili/Tauriel in future (but not as of yet)

**Warning**/**s**: none

**Summary**: Response to a prompt on the Hobbit Kinkmeme. The wedding of Gimli and Legolas, with all the ensuing 'disasters' that come about due to their respective families and their history. Everyone lives, and is there for the wedding.

**Original** **Prompt**:

I want my Gimli/Legolas wedding-turned-into-disaster-or-maybe-not. Can be crack, can be serious. Hell, it can be even Modern!AU if you want. With (horrible? hilarious?) speeches from Glóin and Thranduil, hobbits making havoc, Aragorn and Thorin as the best men, Classic Elf vs Darf family drama, Gandalf sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, you know the drill.

+++ All the bonuses for squeezing Bilbo/Thorin & Aragorn/Frodo into the mix (even Kili/Tauriel is fine by me).

* * *

**Part One: The Ceremony**

Smoothing his hands over his richly embroidered (with gold thread) waistcoat, Bilbo sighed, giving the ends a tug for good measure. He looked over to where Thorin stood, straightening his own clothing. The King was resplendent in royal Durin blue, and Bilbo felt his heart give a, by now, rather familiar tug as he looked over at him.

"Are you simply going to stare, Burglar, or are you going to help?" Thorin growled out, giving Bilbo a pointed look as he held out his comb. Smiling, Bilbo moved over to his husband.

"Of course," he replied, "can't have you looking anything less than majestic today of all days," he teased.

Thorin glared, shoulders tensing. Running the comb through the thick, dark hair, liberally sprinkled with greys, Bilbo gave Thorin's shoulder a squeeze.

"None of that, now," he chided. "You know they're happy."

Thorin snorted. "I do not care about the elf," he declared, but Bilbo simply shook his head.

"Of course not," he agreed, "it's not like he ever saved Frodo's life or anything."

Grinning at the silence that greeted that comment, Bilbo gathered some of Thorin's hair, fingers, though not as nimble as they used to be, easily twisting the strands together in the familiar pattern.

Leaning back against Bilbo's chest, Thorin sighed. "Why did it have to _him_?" he asked.

Bilbo didn't bother asking which 'him' Thorin was referring to. After all, he supposed that dwarf was very likely referring to both, though he would never admit it.

"You know why," he replied. "I think it's a good match."

Thorin snorted. "You would," he said.

"And you will," Bilbo replied, "at least for today." Thorin scowled, but made no reply.

There was a soft knock on the door, before it opened, admitting Frodo. The younger hobbit had yet to completely lose the pale palour to his skin, the thinness of his frame, or the dark smudges under his eyes, although all three had diminished greatly in the past few months. Bilbo smiled at him.

"Ah, Frodo, my lad," he said, "there you are."

"Uncles," Frodo replied, stepping forward and letting the door swing shut behind him. He sighed, leaning his head back against it. Thorin's eyes narrowed.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Frodo shook his head. "I think Merry and Pippin started celebrating early," he replied.

Tilting his head to one side, Bilbo was just able to hear the faint sound of laughter and running hobbit feet. "You'd think they'd know better," he tutted.

There was a crash from somewhere out in the hall. Frodo grimaced, Thorin closed his eyes, as though unable to face reality and Bilbo sighed. Somehow, he felt the day was only going to get worse.

He was right.

* * *

After a quick, light breakfast, Bilbo found himself standing in one of the largest caverns within Erebor. Used for royal feasts and suchlike, it had been decided that it was the perfect place to hold the actual bonding ceremony – mostly in deference to Frodo's health, but Bilbo tried not to think too much on that, particularly not when everyone, from Gandalf to Elrond to Oin, assured him that Frodo _was _getting better. Bilbo also had no desire to remember the numerous arguments that had been waged about who should host the ceremony and where and why.

Thorin stepped into the cavern behind Bilbo before abruptly stopping short. A strangled sound fell from his lips that Bilbo would never, ever, tell him sounded just like a -

"Strangling cats now, Uncle?" Kili chirped, bright and happy as ever.

Bilbo closed his eyes. Was it too late to strangle his nephew? he wondered. If he was quick about it, he was certain that he could get it done before any more of the guests arrived. And there were plenty of side tunnels just waiting to have Kili's body hidden in them.

Thorin refused to answer beyond the sound of his teeth grinding against each other. Not to far away, and gaping in his own dumbfounded amazement at the room, Bilbo saw Oin suddenly perk up, spinning towards Thorin with his Healer's glare on his face. Bilbo prudently took a step backwards.

Which conveniently allowed him to take in the massive cavern. The massive cavern which was currently filled with every type of greenery imaginable. Garlands hung from every wall, and draped along the roof, grass and flowers dotted the floor (although there were, thankfully, stone paths leading between them), and Bilbo wasn't entirely sure how they had managed to get the trees in there, living columns to line the walls and section off the pathway down the middle, but he did admit that it was frankly impressive.

He tuned back into the conversation going on beside him just in time for Oin to throw his hands up in the air, muttering something about stubborn, idiotic kings who will have _no teeth_ if they do not learn!

Thorin glared at the cavern. "This," he hissed, "this..." his voice trailed off, most-likely strangled by his own fury.

Bilbo patted him on the arm, eyes twinkling madly even as he hide his smile. "You did say Thranduil could decorate the room," he reminded him gently.

Scowling, Thorin stumped forward, heading for the seats set aside for them. Bilbo trailed after him, but not before stopping to smell some of the flowers. Really, he would have to talk to Thranduil about how it was done later. Perhaps he could get some of the grass and flowers transferred to their rooms.

The ceremony started out well enough – Thorin had left Bilbo on the seat set aside him on the dwarven side of the room. Finally leaving after Bilbo had waved him off grumpily – but not before fluffing his hobbit's cushions for him one last time – Thorin had vanished to carry out his duties as best man.

On the way, he managed to give Thranduil – sitting serenely and as still as the trees surrounding them on the other side of the room – a smug smirk. Bilbo had sighed. Just because Thorin got to be best man while Thranduil didn't... did everything have to be a competition between those two (the answer, at least in regards to the wedding, was yes). Thranduil sniffed haughtily, turning away from Thorin.

With Thorin gone, Bilbo had settled in, Frodo on one side and Fili and Kili on the other. The two dwarves had matured well over the years and Bilbo had high hopes that, should anything go wrong, it would not be because of them.

Merry and Pippin arrived just before the ceremony was about to start, slinking into their seats and nudging each other, Sam, puffing and red-faced behind them and hissing sharply for them to 'hush up!'

Nearby, Gloin sat stiffly with his wife, Oin by his side and patting his arm consolingly ever other second. Bilbo doubted that it would do much to help, but he wasn't game to say anything about it. Balin and Dwalin were also seated nearby, Balin displaying the kind of concerned look he only ever got when Thorin was out of sight and likely to cause another political scandal, Dwalin staring steadfastly ahead, hands fisting by his sides. Bilbo was simply thankful that, rather early on in the planning, he had managed to convince everyone involved that there was absolutely no way weapons would be allowed, on anyone, during the ceremony. He had feared then, and still did, that it was the only way for them to get through it without bloodshed. Dori sat regally beside Balin, decked out in his finest, and appeared to have somehow managed to do the same to his brothers. Nori's sharp eyes darted around the room, but Bilbo wasn't even going to think about that. Ori, quill and parchment ready, appeared eager to document the occasion. Bombur trailed in just behind Merry and Pippin, a smudge of flour on his cheek suggesting that he had been finishing up in the kitchens before joining them. Which drew Bilbo's attention to the rfact that Bofur was seated between Bifur and Pippin. Narrowing his eyes, Bilbo turned in his seat, giving them a harsh glare. That, was not a good combination.

But then the music started up, and there was no time to lecture any of them on proper behaviour befitting the current situation. Casting his eyes to the back of the room, Bilbo felt his eyes misting up at the sight that greeted him (and really, he was an old hobbit, he was allowed to be romantic and misty-eyed at their love).

Gimli and Legolas walked together up the centre row. Gimli's steps rang loud and firm in the room, echoing back from the stone walls, despite all the greenery. Legolas glided beside him, almost as though his feet didn't even touch the ground. They walked together as they had pledged to walk together through life and Bilbo found himself fished for his handkerchief.

Behind them, Thorin and Aragorn walked (Bilbo giving the man a sharp glance, but really, now wasn't the time to be vetting Frodo's suitor, so he would give him some leeway for now). Around them, the soft strains of music rang.

There was a smattering of notes from behind Bilbo and he turned to gape as Bofur grinned back at him from behind his flute. A row of sliding notes to his side had him whipping around (and really, all that movement wasn't good for his old body) to glare at Fili and Kili who had somehow produced gold and silver harps from somewhere and were joining in. Dwalin had a fiddle.

Across the row from them, Thranduil's posture became, somehow, even stiffer. Around them, elven and dwarven music rose into the air. It could, perhaps, if it had been coordinated, thought Bilbo, have been quite lovely. The sound of the instruments rose into the air, interwoven and overlapping, fighting against each other for dominance. Done skillfully, it could have sounded quite nice.

It simply sounded like a battle. An affront to the ears. Discordant, chaotic and really, quite painful. Grumping slightly that he couldn't simply stuff her handkerchief into his earhorn like Oin (thankfully, Bilbo had yet to start to lose his hearing), Bilbo sunk down in his seat, giving Kili, who was closest to him, a swift kick (he'd lived with dwarves long enough to know how to deal with them).

Kili yelped – not that anyone could hear it under the noise of the battling instruments. Really, if Dwalin bowed any harder, he was going to break the strings on that fiddle, Bilbo thought with a huff. A sharp, high-pitched sound, caused Bilbo, and Thranduil (who would never admit it), to flinch.

A sharp glare over his shoulder had Merry and Pippin and their confounded (and really, where had they gotten them), whistles sinking down in their seats, but mulishly still playing (the fact that Bofur was grinning them on certainly wasn't helping matters any).

Gimli and Legolas, thankfully, appeared immune to what was going on around them, eyes only for each other. It was really horribly romantic and Bilbo found himself reaching for his handkerchief once more, for an entirely different reason than to stop up his ears.

The happy couple reached the front of the cavern, where Gandalf was waiting for them, leaning on his staff and smiling broadly out at everyone as though he was deaf. Barmy wizard probably had a spell that could make himself temporarily deaf, Bilbo grumped.

Behind the couple, Thorin and Aragorn stopped just before they reached the raised dais, instead moving to stand to either side.

The music didn't stop.

Gimli and Legolas stood facing each other, hands clasped between them.

The music continued.

The two stared into each other's eyes in a thoroughly besotted way, but it was their bonding ceremony, so Bilbo supposed he could forgive them.

The music rose ever higher, continuing to battle it out. Neither group willing to let the other have the last chord.

Gandalf sighed. And tapped his staff sharply against the stone at his feet. A large boom rang out, the force of the blast washing over everyone gathered. Hair flew back, Bofur's hair went flying, and then, it was blessedly silent.

Ori scratched away at his parchment, hurriedly trying to stretch the rather fetching way Gimli and Legolas' hair had blown in the blast, red and gold strands twining together for a moment. Craning his head to look, Bilno gave a short nod, it was a rather good sketch.

Gandalf smiled. "Friends," he said, smile broadening even as Thorin and Thranduil shot daggers at each other with their eyes (once again, Bilbo was glad he'd managed to ban any actual daggers making it into the room). "We are gathered here to witness the bonding of Gimli, son of Gloin, of the line of Durin; and Legolas, son of Thranduil, of the woodland realm."

All around Bilbo dwarves shifted, turning glares on the elves sat opposite them. The elves did likewise. Bilbo sighed. Was he the only sane person in the room?

But no, there, in a place of honour, sat dignitaries from Rohan and Gondor. They looked rather bemused by it all, to be truthful. At least, if things did get out of hand, Bilbo could head that way and commiserate with them. One of the men, with bright gold hair and a frown on his face was whispering to the woman beside him (no doubt a sister, considering their likeness). She just patted his arm and turned back to watch the proceedings with an amused smile.

At least someone was enjoying themself, Bilbo thought.

Around them, the tension mounted.

"They stand before you, as their witnesses, to bind themselves to each other," Gandalf continued, as though he couldn't sense any of it (Bilbo was sure that he could, and also hoped that the barmy old man took his advice – given frequently – that he make the ceremony itself as short as possible). "Therefore, in the traditions of the dwarves of Durin, and of the woodelves, let them be bound together." (Bilbo wasn't even going to start on the headache that trying to get everyone to agree on whose tradition would be followed had been, just no).

Smiling broadly, Gimli squeezed Legolas' hands between his. "Legolas Thranduilion," he said, voice ringing out clear. Gloin burst into tears. Honestly, Bilbo thought, even as he passed over his handkerchief to the wailing dwarf, it wasn't like he hadn't had a few months to get used to the idea.

"You are my friend," Gimli continued, "and have walked with me many leagues and through many battles. You have had my back, my trust and my friendship. If you be willing, I would give you also myself, to walk together through the rest of this life, from this day forward."

And, oh darn, now Bilbo was sniffling again and he'd just given his handkerchief to Gloin. Frodo, bless him, passed his Uncle a fresh one.

Eyes suspiciously bright, Legolas squeezed Gimli's hands in returned. "Gimli, son of Gloin," he said. Gloin's wails rose louder. Thranduil appeared to even stop breathing. "You are my friend and my rock. You have kept me steady through many battles, protected me when I could not do so myself, and taught me things I never thought to learn." And, oh, Thranduil could not have become any stiffer if he tried. "I have walked with you far, and would continue to do so. To be always at your side, with you at my back. To share your burdens and joys and never know another moment parted from you. I offer you myself, to walk through this life, from this day forward."

Dabbing at his eyes, Bilbo silently bemoaned the already sodden state of his handkerchief. Leaning forward, Bofur passed him what suspiciously appeared to be the intricately embroidered pocket of his tunic. If it hadn't been right in the middle of the ceremony, Bilbo would certainly have had something to say to him about that. Really, destroying perfectly good clothing when you could simply carry a pocket handkerchief!

"In the tradition of the dwarves," said Gandalf, "a bonding is shown by the exchange of gifts worked by the hands of the giver to show the worth of the other, and the braiding of bonded braids – those this is done in private."

Bilbo couldn't help but reach up to gently touch his own bonded braids, remembering the first time Thorin had woven them for him. It had been a strangely intimate act – in a way he had not thought could come from simply fixing one's hair.

Gandalf nodded to the two best men. Stepping forward, Thorin handed the wrapped bundle he had been carrying to Gimli, as Aragorn did the same for Legolas.

Dropping the wrapping to the ground, Gimli held out an intricately engraved and worked quiver towards Legolas.

"Oh!" Bilbo heard Merry gasp behind him.

Legolas held out a worked and embossed axe-cover and belt.

Pippin sighed. Bilbo sniffled. Gloin bawled harder.

There were no words, but there were not meant to be. The gifts spoke for themselves. If Bilbo hadn't known already that the two were so suited for each other, he would know simply from the sight of the gifts – that they had each chosen something so similar. Something that would help each other with their chosen path, but did not take away from anything they already had. At this rate, Bilbo was going to need ever pocket handkerchief in Erebor before the day was over.

Gandalf smiled. "In the tradition of the Elves," he said, "a bonding is shown by the binding of two hands, symbolising that the two shall never be parted willingly again." Stepping forward, he used a length of flowering vine (Thorin gagged, Bilbo heard him and no stuffy dwarf king can convince him otherwise) around Gimli and Legolas' hands where they pressed them together.

"So bond and declared before you," Gandalf said, "you have witnessed their union. Now, let it be known to all, that Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas Thranuilion, are evermore bound through this life." He stepped back, smiling broadly at them.

The room erupted into cheers. Dwarves stamped and roared their approval. The elves, looking somewhat scandalised, clapped politely, although forcefully to be heard between the racket.

Then the music started up once again. Bilbo wasn't sure, but he thought it might have been Bofur's fault. He could already feel the headache coming on.

Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, after Gimli and Legolas left the room, heading towards Thorin. He had a feeling he would need to put the dwarf in a good mood before they all came together again for the celebratory feast.

For a moment, he worried about Frodo – the lad might be doing better than when he first returned to them, but he still wasn't what Bilbo would call well – but then he saw Aragorn making his way towards Bilbo's nephew.

Really, Bilbo thought, it was a good thing he'd always liked the Ranger. Once the all the festivities were over, he would have to discuss Aragorn's intentions with him. He may like the ranger, but Frodo was family.

Wrapping his fingers firmly around Thorin's, Bilbo began to tug him away from the room. They had an hour or two before the feast – time for Gimli and Legolas to braid each other's hair in private, and for Bombur to run around placing the last touches on the feast.

Time, also, for Bilbo to try and coax Thorin into a better mood. Really, that scowl he was wearing was particularly fearsome. Still, Bilbo had been married to the majestic grump for quite some time, and he knew all the best ways to ease Thorin's temper.

Somehow, he had a feeling he might need to employ them all if the continuing battle of the musicians was anything to go by.


	2. The Reception - part one

Straightening his waistcoat and patting his curls back down, Bilbo shot a fond look at the dwarf standing opposite him. Thorin, re-dressed in his clothes from earlier was just as handsome and perhaps a bit more charming (considering he had yet to regain his scowl).  
There was a knock on the door.  
"Come in," Bilbo called, satisfied that they both looked almost presentable once more. Moving over to Thorin he reached out, tugging the dwarf's hands away from the end of braid that had unraveled a little. Nimble fingers rewove the strands of hair together. Closing his eyes, Thorin leant his head forward, as though he couldn't keep himself away from his husband.  
There was an awkward throat-clearing behind them.  
"Yes, Kili?" Bilbo asked.  
"Uh, Frodo said I should come let you know it was time..." the younger dwarf's voice trailed over, before returning in a mutter. "Should have expected this when he sent me instead of coming himself."  
Chuckling, Bilbo fastened the end of Thorin's braid before turning to face his blushing nephew. "Thank you," he said. "We'll be right there."

"I don't like it," Dwalin said as soon as they stepped out into the hallway. The burly guard fell into step beside them, a deep scowl carved onto his face. Bilbo sighed.  
"It will be fine, Dwalin," he replied.  
"It's hardly defensible," Dwalin retorted. "And I don't see why it matters. Considering what they managed to do to the hall -"  
"It matters," Bilbo replied.  
"And those stinking tree-huggers live in caves anyway, so really, they should be perfectly happy inside the mountain -"  
"Elves," Bilbo corrected mildly, but with a touch of exasperation. It was a very good thing he had had so many years to practice his patience considering the obstinately stubborn dwarves he was always surrounded by.  
"Besides which, we all know -"  
"Dwalin," Bilbo cut him off with a warning hand on his arm and a fond smile. "I understand your concerns. Having the reception outside makes it harder to secure. But we are currently blessed with peace. And, in deference to your concerns, you know that key dwarves have been allowed to bring weapons - which I still think is a foolhardy idea -" he shot Thorin a look "- but I understand it. Thranduil agreed to have the ceremony inside, as long as the reception was outside. Considering that, generally, elven weddings occur entirely outside, it was good compromise. We were never going to get out of having part of the ceremony outside."  
"We would have," Thorin growled, "if you had simply let me do the negotiations."  
Kili cast a rather wide-eyed look at his uncle. Bilbo sighed.  
"That," Bilbo replied, "was not negotiating. That was a laying down of terms. And if you had persisted then I would not have been surprised should Gimli and Legolas have decided to elope, and then you and Thranduil would have had the pleasure of blaming each other for what would have clearly been both your faults, and you would have been in a snit for at least five years." Stopping, Bilbo turning to face Thorin, hands on his hips. "I am not living with you in a snit for five years," he declared. "We are having the reception outside," he gazed turned to Dwalin, "and this has all already been decided. Stop complaining and get on with it. You have a speech you need to make and I would prefer it if could look more like The King under the Mountain and less like a sour old dwarf sucking on a lemon when you do so."  
Kili choked. Dwalin ducked his head, looking abashed. Thorin sighed, giving Bilbo what was obviously meant to be a long-suffering look. Unimpressed, Bilbo turned away, continuing on.  
"Now, don't dawdle," he said, "and Kili, close your mouth, you'd think after this many years you'd be used to this by now."  
Kili's mouth shut with a snap as he hurried up after Bilbo. "Uncle Bilbo," he breathed, "you're amazing! Will you help me?"  
"What?" Bilbo asked, confusion crossing his face.  
Kili opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the approach of Ori.  
"There you are," the scribe declared. "Balin sent me to let you know that almost everyone is gathered and the happy couple are expected not long hence."  
"Thank you, Ori," Bilbo replied. He glanced back over his companions before sighing. "Please let Balin know we will be there very shortly, as soon as I ensure his majesty doesn't embarrass himself when he enters."  
Face rapidly turning red, Ori squeaked out something that may have been an affirmative.  
"I'll go with you," Kili hurriedly declared, racing after the rapidly vanishing scribe.  
"I'll secure the area," Dwalin added, already backing up.  
Shaking his head fondly at them, Bilbo turned back to Thorin.  
"Now," he said, "King under the Mountain, not a sour old dwarf."  
"I am not old," Thorin grumbled, reaching out even as Bilbo stepped closer to him, fitting easily into his husband's embrace. Leaning forward, Thorin rested his head against Bilbo's curls for a moment, breathing in the scent of him.  
"Now remember," Bilbo told him soft, hands smoothing down Thorin's back. "This day is about Gimli -"  
"And that elf," Thorin grumbled.  
Bilbo laughed. "Yes," he agreed, "and Legolas. This is their day. And you are here, you are doing this, for Gimli. It means the world to him that you are willing to do so."  
"You are right," Thorin said, pushing back with a sigh. "If only he had not fallen in love with an elf."  
"If only you had not fallen in love with a hobbit."  
"Do not say that!" Thorin snapped. "Never say that. I do not wish to contemplate a life without you in it."  
Smiling up at Thorin, cheeks dimpling fetchingly, Bilbo nodded. "And I doubt Gimli would want to contemplate life without Legolas. Thankfully, we can support him in this."  
"I already said you were right," Thorin groused.  
"Yes," Bilbo agreed primly, "and you would do well to remember it." He turned to continue down the corridor, but Thorin grabbed his hand reeling him back in until he was pressed up against the dwarf's chest once more. Leaning down, Thorin slanted his mouth over Bilbo's. With a sigh, Bilbo parted his lips, melting against the firm chest before him.  
Slowly drawing back, Thorin watched the way his hobbit's eyes blinked languidly up at him with a deep satisfaction. He stepped forward.  
"Don't we have a reception to get to?" he asked.

They exited the mountain into a large area on the side of the mountain which had been specially designed for the occasion. An arched doorway led out of the mountain into a paved area which fell away to a number of grassed areas, following the slope of the mountain down in large steps. Along the edges of the steps, Thranduil's elves had once more been busy, creating colonnades of trees much like those that had lined the hall for the ceremony. Overhead, their branches wove together to create a leafy roof. Tiny flowers dotted the grass and were scattered with tables made of living trees, their growth coaxed into elaborate woven shapes that formed the table-tops and numerous seats on spreading branches. Here and there, a stone seat was placed amongst the branches to provide enough seating for everyone at the table. Each stone seat carved deeply with dwarvish runes and patterns.  
The lowest two steps were empty, ready and waiting for the dancing to follow. Elven lights were strung between the trees, glowing softly. As evening fell, Bilbo knew that they would grow in brightness, lighting up the area.  
"Tell me again why we let the elves decorate," Thorin grumbled. They stepped down from the paved step onto the first tier and Bilbo sighed happily, wriggling his toes in the soft grass. Thorin glanced back at him, face softening at his obvious enjoyment.  
A large table was before them, where the couple and their families and close friend would sit, all the other tables angled to see it.  
Taking his seat, Bilbo smiled at all those around him. Thorin was seated to the left of the two middle seats - where he would be at Gimli's side as his best man. Bilbo was next to Thorin. On Bilbo's other side, Gloin appeared to have managed to stop his tears and was sitting with some composure next to his wife. Oin at the end. Still, Bilbo patted his jacket pocket to check he'd remembered to bring quite a number of pocket handkerchiefs, just in case.  
On the other side of the two empty seats which would be taken up by the couple sat Aragorn, as Legolas' best man. Bilbo felt his eyebrow rise to see Frodo sitting next to the man. How had he managed to miss that in all the preparations? He was sure he'd looked over and approved all the seating arrangements (while Thorin and Thranduil sniped back and forth in the background, by that stage, Bilbo had pretty much taken over organising everything for the two of them as he'd decided them both too stubborn and infantile to do it themselves, plus, he'd had a headache).  
Pushing those thoughts back to be dealt with later, Bilbo let his eyes continue down the other side of the table. Thranduil sat to Frodo's right, with Tauriel at his other side and Kili at hers.  
Bilbo blinked. Had he been paying any attention when the seats for the Bondeds table had been decided upon? Kili shot him a rather desperate look, eyes flicking between Bilbo and Thorin.  
Suppressing another sigh, Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Really, of course the younger dwarf would be worried about the fact that he'd been seated on the elven side of the table.  
It wasn't even all that surprising, not when Bilbo took into consideration all the time Kili spent acting as liaison with the elves, or guarding trade caravans, or...  
Well, Bilbo wasn't ignorant of his nephew's desire to spend time around a certain elf he was currently sitting next to.  
Still, Bilbo thought, his hobbit heart going out to Thranduil, it was sad to see that Legolas had so little blood family left. Well, the elf was married into their family now, so they would welcome him with open arms, even if Bilbo had to shove Thorin growling and kicking the whole way.  
That decided, Bilbo turned to look over the tables spread out below them, wondering at Kili's slightly panicked expressed. Yes, he was on the elven side of the table, but he needed look so worried.  
At the tables spread before them, the rest of their friends and family were seated, Bilbo amused, once more, to note that the areas had been neatly split into dwarven and elven halves. The human delegations looking somewhat bemused by the whole situation.  
Spotting Fili, surrounded by Merry and Pippin and the rest of the company, Bilbo smiled. Before frowning. Fili's eyes were darting back and forth between Kili and Thorin. And really, what was up with the two boys, it wasn't like Kili's choice was exactly a secret...  
Oh. OH! Pursing his lips firmly to hold back a groan, Bilbo slipped his hand beneath the table to twine with Thorin's. Turning to Bilbo, Thorin gave him a soft smile that had Bilbo's insides fluttering happily, even all these years later. There was a questioning look in Thorin's eyes, but Bilbo just squeezed his hand. Best to keep Thorin distracted and as happy as possible. He loved the dwarf, he really did, but sometimes he could be rather... oblivious.  
And then, later, Bilbo was going to have a talk with those boys about actually talking to their Uncle!  
There was a fanfare of horns and Bilbo turned in his seat, smiling as saw Gimli and Legolas emerge from the mountain, hair neatly braided and smiles on their faces.  
If there was a tear in the corner of his eye - well, you were meant to cry at weddings, weren't you?


End file.

Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Drama, Humor